Factions vs Factions: Statistics
by He Who See's
Summary: This serves the purpose of collecting my ideas on factions size into a single document, collecting Story Bits that I think might come in handy sometime later and getting feedback on what people think of the numbers I come up with.
1. Story Bit 1ROUGH DRAFT

_A Word from the Author:_

**As the title of this chapter implies, this is a rough-draft of the first chapter which will explain why exactly whatever is happening is happening. As to what exactly IS happening, I'm not sure myself, but hey. I'm sure in between being the diligent school-worker that I am and the slacking homework-worker that I am, I'll come up with something :p**

The Milky Way. _Via Lactea._ Specifically, a version of the Galaxy that was home to the Orks, Eldar, their darker Cousins, the forces of Chaos, the Necrons, the Tyranids, the Tau, and of course, another branch of the beings without whom he would not have ever been born, died, become _reborn_ into his viral shell, and have eventually garnered the shear level of power he now possessed. Humans. More specifically, the Imperium of the Man and its hundreds of thousands of worlds numbering at about one-million. This particular Universe was parallel to the very same one where he was first humbled in his long, arduous, but very rewarding quest so long ago…

"Hmmm," he huffed quietly to himself, humored.

Out of all of the Universes he had traversed since first setting off from Eden-Alpha, the particular set of Universes the one he was viewing belonged to was definitely up there as one of his more interesting and preferred bundles. Sure it was often violent, barbaric, crazy, insane, unhinged, compellingly simple and simply compelling, and was one of the more bleaker and pessimistic of the Universal he had traversed, but where those qualities would have repelled quite a few beings away from it, Alex found himself liking those qualities quite a bit and he genuinely enjoyed searching for gems and shreds of actual decency and goodness within them (of which, there were actually quite a few, if you knew where to look).

For quite some time during the hourly actions he occupied himself with, he often thought that quite a few other Universes could learn from this set and said set could learn from quite a few other Universes. That of course was why he was floating in the Dark Space 'above' this version of the Milky Way, whose Universe he was now inside of.

Behind him, a Warp portal (not of the same 'Warp' underlying this and other Universes cut from the same clothe mind you) opened up. From its cyan glow, a man in a black and white business suite with dark shades and an ear piece extending down into the pocket of the right side of his jacket, black shoes, and combed down hazel brown hair was deposited, floating straight before coming to a stop at Alex's left side.

"Agent Smith," he said with a hint of excitement. "I'm assuming everything went well with the Vasari Emperor."

"That depends: do you really have to ask?" Smith queried rhetorically.

"No," the viral monstrosity admitted honestly, "but I find it rude to wantonly and unnecessarily _take_ the information from those under my employ and breach their trust without due cause. I'm not like the American government circa the time frame inside of that virtual reality simulator you used to patrol on your earth or on mine. Well...twenty-five percent of the time at least." A threatening edge was in his voice.

Mr. Smith gulped slightly.

"Well then, in that case: yes. Everything occurred as you said it would and as I agreed with. Emperor Sul and the elements of his people still loyal to him have been sent to Universe ME—1111 and should begin their conquest of the Terminus Systems within the next few weeks of that Universe's time-scale. With any luck, the Vasari will conquer the new version of their home Galaxy that they've been dumped in well within the time you allotted them."

"Good. Now how go Hitler, Stalin, and Jaws's—"

Before Alex could finish that sentence, another Warp portal opened up, depositing a familiar man clad in slightly dented red and gold armor who floated up to Alex's right side.

"Ah. Mr. Fegelein," said Agent Smith. "Glad to see you're still lacking in punctuality."

"Agent Smith," said the former adjutant and apprentice to high-ranking Nazi general, Heinrich Himmler. "Glad to see you're still lacking the common courtesy of NOT being on my ass every time I'm even the tiniest bit late."

"Well, Mr. Mercer _did_ say you were supposed to arrive in this point in space and time EXACTLY three hundred nano-seconds ago. Forgive me for trying to instill a sense of timeliness within you before Mr. Mercer decides he has had enough of your… antics and shenanigans."

Without warning, Fegelein brought up repulsor-beam emitters built into the gauntlets of his suit and blasted Agent Smith a good thirty meters across Dark Space.

As Smith recovered from that 'light' attack, Fegelein calmly stated, "For your information there Smith, I probably completed my task DAYS before you did. The only reason I was late was because on my way through Warp Space here, I decided I had enough time to take a little trip down to Earth-617. That world's Superhero Civil War period to be exact. Me and ol' yeller here—" he said, pointing to the long-sword he had in a sheathe behind his back, "gutted ourselves quite a few pretentious super-powered whacko's and I even walked right up to ol' Anthony Stark, punched him in the genitalia, read his mind, hi-jacked one of his sets of Power Armor, and went on a city wide rampage. It only took me so long because I had a little…trouble with that fake cloned version of Thor. But I was able to escape non-the-less and arrive here just the same."

The Antic Master crossed his armored arms over his chest with a smug smile on his face. "Now ask yourself if you could do all that in the same time-frame Mr. Pencil-Push-Over."

A scowl deeper than the flaming pits of Mordor formed on Smith's face, and he prepared with a reprisal comprising of some energy beams of his own when Alex put one of his hands up and yelled out, "ENOUGH!"

Suddenly, the two found themselves encased in solid light constructs made out of Green, Purple, Blue, Orange, Red, Yellow, Indigo, Sapphire, Black, and White Lantern energy resembling large bug-jars that not even their Titanic might could allow them to break free from.

"Under normal circumstances, I'd either let you two go on with your little cat-fight till your hearts are content or pick apart both of your faults, but today, that word being a relative term, I'm really not interested in either."

Alex telekinetically moved both multi-colored jars to his front.

"You know what I am interested in though?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm interested in knowing whether the transplantation of the Lich King and his forces from Azeroth to Thedas has gone swimmingly. The same thing can be said for the German Genocidal Dictator, the Russian Genocidal Dictator, and the Terror of the Deep that fed me with a primal fear of the ocean when I was still human. Mr. Smith, you have the floor first."

The Agent tugged at his collar uncomfortably and said, with sweat beginning to form on his face, "Everything is going exactly as planned so far Mr. Mercer sir."

"Good. Hermann?"

"Ol' Arthas and his undead hordes are busy at work making Thedas an even worse place to live on then it already is as we speak," the Antic Master replied enthusiastically. "With any luck, it may reach the same levels of crazy as the Galaxy right below us."

"One can only hope," Alex said with an unnaturally wide smirk. With a flick of his wrist, the bug jars disappeared into the aether. "Now that those progress reports are out of the way, do return to your regularly scheduled duties until such a time when I require you again. I wish to be left alone while I unleash what will quite possibly be the largest wave of telepathic psychic energy not warp based that this _Via Lactea_ has ever seen, if not the largest wave of telepathic psychic energy _period _this _Via Lactea_ has ever seen."

The two looked angrily at each other for a few tense moments before swiftly turning away and opening a Warp Gate to whatever their _day-job,_ as Alex liked to call it, entailed. Before they did, Mercer sent a telepathic message to the two of them that went something like:

_"Oh! Before I forget: please don't fail me. I'm still picking out bits and pieces of the soul belonging to the last __G-Man __who didn't follow my instructions."_

With that, the two left the Universe Alex was currently in, and he took in a deep breath of air he had willed into being around him. From one of the pockets on his jeans, he pulled out a blindingly white cube. A cube whose immense power he had never really needed to utilize, and probably still didn't. Still, considering the shear vast scale of what he was about to do, and the cautiousness his humbling had instilled upon him whenever he dealt with such a Universe, it couldn't hurt to have insurance that his plan went off without the Chaos Gods or any other great power in the Galaxy taking notice and trying to devour him. Again.

"Oh great Cosmic Cube," he began in the best needlessly epic and dramatic voice he could muster. "grant me my wish and act as a Psionic amplifier for my mental abilities so great that even the Dark Gods of the Warp will do as I command!"

A brilliant white-light enveloped him and the surrounding space for dozens of Kilometers before receding back into the confines of the cube, which now glowed a combination of bright gold, dark purple, and dark red.

"Good. Let it begin."


	2. Story Bit 2ROUGH DRAFT

A word from the Author: To anyone wondering why Alex appears to be a bit…well…actually DECENT in this is because the person he is talking to (as stated in the story) is a member of a certain Tri-Brid race of StarCraft factions that Alex had created and let develop on a sort of "hidden planet" in a Star Wars Universe mentioned in Chapter 15 of "Evolution Personified" and because Alex is acting (in a sense) in this scene. Don't worry, he hasn't gone ENTIRELY benevolent. He's just more so towards this particular race.

BE WARNED THOUGH! The following, as my last one, is a rough-draft of sorts and to those expecting a decent linear narrative in the near future, I would suggest not expecting to find one here as this tale is currently in the development and structuring phase.

Groggily, slowly, Ernor Shivala's eyelids began moving, signifying his rapidly returning state of consciousness. Consciousness that began growing into confusion more than any other emotion. For the last thing he recalled was a ceremony. A coronation meant to officially induct him and the other graduates from the Priair-Academy into Active-Duty members of the Combatant-Caste. In fact, he and his squad of fellow cadets had just received their graduation medals from the Academy's Warden when he found himself in his current briefly wondered if one of the Academy's many void-sensitives was playing a final prank on him that he heard they liked to call "dark man" when hid lids finally managed to open completely, temporarily blinding him with white-light. He shut his eyes. Well, it probably wasn't THAT particular more slowly than previously, he began to open them again, gradually letting them get re-accustomed to the light. What he saw when they completely did, would have caused his jaw to drop if his initial gut reaction to something included that, for the mouth was a rarely used organ of his species since the establishment of their mutual Psionic link. For what he saw was the very same symbol with which his people associated with their creator, floating freely in the very same white-expanse he was said to dwell a glow that was black, dark red, purple, cyan, and golden all at once, the symbol spoke telepathically."Greetings my child." It said in a calm, soothing began stuttering telepathically."By…by…the…fires of Mt. Malice…you're…you're…""You are correct my child. I…am the Mercar. "The being whom without which, the Tritoss would not be." The symbol said, reciting a verse that was often stated by Elder Khala and Void casters continued to look at the floating symbol with widened eyes, his mind utterly devoid of anything t say. For indeed, what could he say to such an entity, the God of his people, that would make him sound worthy of being in his presence."Do not fret." Said the Mercar. "You are plenty worthy, as are all of my children who follow my tenants O' Sergeant Ernor Shivala of the Combatant-Caste of the Tritoss people.""How did you—" Began Ernor, before stopping himself and slapping his forehead. The Mercar was a god. Doy."You are too ** yourself. I understand perfectly well how you are feeling at the moment, and such a thing is fine. For it is not every day that a being such as I sends one of his children to his domain in order to speak."Upon hearing this, Ernor performed the Psionic approximation of taking in a deep breath. Slowly, he said: "Alright then," with what he was sure was more of a wimper than he had anticipated. "If I may—why exactly have you brought me to your domain O' great and powerful one?""My reason is a simple one. A reason I believe will be well suited to you and your squad."Ernor felt even more confused than he already was."Me and my squad? What is it you intend O' Mercar?""I intend to test your squad, yourself included, to see if the first year graduates of the Academy of the planet Priair can stand against other soldiers who hail from some of the multitudes of other plains of reality I have encountered beyond yours. I wish for Diavi Squad to represent your class."Ernor didn't know what to say, and he found himself stammering again before squelching his confusion to the point where he could speak clearly once more."I am honored….humbled…that you have selected Diavi Squad for this test O' Mercar…but surely there is some other graduate team that possesses more skill, power, experience, ability, talent, and that is generally more deserving than…us." He said with genuine reverence and humility."All who undertake the path of the combatant are worthy Sergeant. And though you are not mistaken when you say your squad is not the most skilled, nor the most powerful, nor the most experienced, nor in the possession of the greatest ability or talent, your squad does hold onto something that makes you just as worthy as your peers.""What…what is that O' Mercar?" The Sergeant stammered out again, much to his inner turmoil."I cannot inform you of this…yet. But know that if you and your comrades truly possess this quality, which I know you do, at the end of this test, the six of you shall uncover what it is for yourselves, without my intervention being a requirement."The white-lights of the realm began glowing even brighter, and Ernor struggled to keep them open."Fair thee well, O' Ernor Shivala of the Combatant-Caste. May the odds be forever in your favor."Ernor found himself rapidly losing consciousness."Wait! What did you mean!" He yelled out weakly, before the realm of unconsciousness engulfed him once again.


	3. Story Bit 3ROUGH DRAFT

A word from the Author: By the way, if anyone is wondering if the platform is made out of Necrodermis, you are correct.

Hovering in perfect geosynchronous orbit over a particular continent belonging to the world of Chimera, there was a platform. Measuring a hundred feet in length on all sides, this flat, square shaped surface floating weightlessly in space was comprised of a solid black-metal that Corporal Rylar Catachatun could not identify (though she did easily imagine the techs and metallurgists back home jumping in glee at the chance to study and analyze it). She did however sense some sort of…lingering presence in the metal. Some latent, living energy signature that held an eerie resemblance to the Void, albeit far more…malevolent in the inherent sense.

She continued to wonder about the metal when she heard Private Gohelm Windfel Psionically whistle before kicking a small rock that was somehow "attracted" to the platform much like the squad was, and watching as the planet's gravitational pull immediately acted, forcing the rock downwards into the upper atmosphere where it was immediately surrounded by intense flame and suffered the same fate most meteorites do when passing into that medium from Space's vacuum.

"Well, if we fall off, at least we won't have to wait too long before reaching the surface." The Private said.

"IF we can even land without ending up like that old pet "dweller" you had back on the plains that got charred to Cinders by old man Yenkin's drake and was summarily stomped on by its tail." Said his brother, Private Yodel Windfel, walking up alongside him.

"Wait, what!" Gohelm explained, turning his pressurized helmet around to face his sibling, "You, Father, AND Mother told me that Mr. Fluffylaferrus ran away into the nearest River so he could make it back to the sea!"

"Yeah, well, a really large fire-spewing reptile snuck into our Beastarium one night and decided that it really wanted biochemical sustenance in the form of fried and crushed cephalopod. We just felt bad about it and decided to tell you some flight of fancy about how it crawled out of its pool because it had grown too large and as heading for the ocean." Yodel said with the Psionic equivalent of what his Terran ancestors would refer to as a "shit-eating grin."

Gohelm looked back towards the planet, his Spirits lowering dramatically when another voice joined in.

"Don't tell me your falling for that Wyrn-fodder again Gohelm." Said Private First Class Nel Rock-Crusher, approaching Gohelm's other side with Private Hapua Kalkalani close behind. "For Mengsk's sake! Your brother is not some smooth talking void-sensitive who could somehow manage to bare false-testimony in the presence of the Queen and succeed…no offense Corporal-" She finished, turning her head towards Rylar, who non-chalantly said:

"Non taken."

"Oh please Nel. You're just venting your anger towards me because despite the fact that you're PFC, I still have a higher kill to expended rounds ratio than you ever achieved! Which is nothing to say about my accuracy rating Ms. Broadside-of-Mount-Malice."

PFC Nel's armored fists clenched at her sides.

"Private Kalakalani!" She mentally shouted.

"Yes mam!" The Private said, saluting without hesitation.

"Add this to the list of things to pay back Private Yodel for some day soon." She said in a low, but non the less threatening tone.

"Mam yes man!" He said saluting again, adding Yodel's action to one of his armor's computer's logs.

"Pffffff." Scoffed Yodel, arms crossed over his chest. "Like you're ever going to make good on those threats of yours. I'm still waiting for the "retribution" you said was heading my way after I created a wind-current that caused that practice grenade to blow up in your face and made you go rolling down that hill before crashing into the Drill Sergeant's office. Granted, he himself dealt with me with his own form of disciplinary action, but you never did give me your own." He finished, cheekily.

Beneath the face-plate of her Power Armor and beneath the head encapsulating helmet she wore beneath that, Nel's eye-brows furrowed even more if such a thing was possible. Any telepath worth his or her weight in Protossium could feel the Irateness flowing from her mind like rain from the steep Mountain-Tops of Northern Earius or Central Aiwai during the wet-season and could accurately predict what was likely to occur next.

Corporal Catachatun was about to verbally (and if the need arose, "physically") put an end to the spat between the Regular Private and Private First Class when someone unexpectedly accomplished that task for her.

"What in the Fram-berry hill is going on here!" Shouted Sargent Ernor Shivala, slowly pushing himself up to his feet from his position dead-center on the platform.

As fast as they could, which was inhumanly so, the other five troopers turned around to face their CO and saluted him.

"Sergeant Shivala!" Said the Corporal. "You're awake sir!"

"You sound shocked Corporal Catachatun. Why is that?" He said, stretching out his ligaments as he walked towards the rest of his squad.

"Because sir, according to your brain-wave pattern, you were in really deep REM, the kind that make a person sleep about a day or so, We didn't expect for you to wake up so soon."

The Sargent stopped abruptly, a foot in front of his team-mates (Rylar in particular). He stared at her with what she could feel was an intense gaze beneath his layers of head protection before moving along the rest of the line and doing the same to the others. After walking past Yodel, he Sargent swiveled around with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Can the rest of your confirm this?"

A unanimous reply of "Yes we can sir!" came from the Windfels, Rock-Crusher, and Kalkalani.

The Sergeant remained as stock still as those under his command for a few moments before swiveling back around to face them and saying:

"Very well then. At ease."

The five before him immediately brought their hands down from their foreheads, their stances slackening and relaxing only slightly.

"Now I wasn't exactly completely conscious when I noticed PFC Rock-Crusher and Regular Private Windfel here were squabbling like children of the citizenry over jerky."

Ernor began alternating his head between Nel's and Yodel's face-plates.

"Would you two care to explain to me what in particular you two yokels were squabbling about!" He said with a far more authoritative and decibel laden tone.

Within the confides of their armor, the two struggles not to quake at the Sergeant sudden shift into anger (though Nel was able to stand more resolutely and recover from her fears far more swiftly). The PFC was first to speak.

"It was the usual sir." She said. "Yodel here was picking on his brother again, and when I told him how full of fecal material he was, he kept blabbering more and more until I was just about ready to deck him."

The Sergeant turned his head to regard Hapua.

"Private Kalkalani! Is it true that PFC Rock-Crusher was about to deck Private Windfel?"

"Like my Great Auntie Caleo's right hook, sir!" The Private responded with a surprising lack of humor in his voice.

The Sergeant broke out into a fit of chuckling.

"That badm huh?" He asked, subconsciously rubbing his head as though remembering some great pain there from long ago.

Hapua nodded, a small Psionic smile coming from his mind. The Sargeant turned towards his XO.

"And how long, exactly, was the argument Corporal?"

"About a minute sir." Said Rylar. "However, I was about to intervene just before you first spoke here, sir."

Ernor's eye narrowed upon Rylar.

"Did I hear you right Corporal?"

The Sargent scanned through the visors of the other members of his team.

"Did I hear the Corporal right people? Did she just say that she was ABOUT to stop the squabblin' goin' on BEFORE I got up!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Did I hear that it took PFC Rock-Crusher preparing to come to blows with Private Windfel before Corporal Catachatun decided it would be prudent to intervene despite first-hand knowledge about how arguments between the two aforementioned parties typically transgressed!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

The Sergent turned back towards the Corporal, whose eyes were threatening to bulge out of their sockets they were so wide.

"Sergeant-I-"

"We're not in our first year anymore Corporal Catachatun. You should have stopped their little spat prior to it even escalating to that point. We're graduates, and if I was drilly Sergeant Arley, I'd probably use that as an excuse to make you take the physical portion of the Final Exam again, except alone this time and without a cloak."

The Corporal looked through her mind, trying to come up with a defense or rebuttal that would work in her favor. Finding that there were none in this situation (unless you counted shifting the blame on the two Privates who had perpetrated the incident, which she herself did not), she remained as silent as the graves of her ancestors.

"Furthermore-" Continued Ernor, "I do believe we have ourselves a monumental task ahead of us, given by someone with a far greater power than any creature of Mortality, even the queen herself. I'm assuming that you are all aware of this?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Good! Then all you know why we've been brought here." He said, before moving towards the other end of the platform and looking down towards the planet below. "Right below our feet, on this world whose name escapes me, lies an unknown number of adversary's from an unknown number of alternate plains of reality. The Mercar himself has selected the entirety of Diavi squad to see how we compare to these unknown soldiers."

Swiftly, he turned around to face his men yet again.

"Now I do not claim to know the workings of the Mercar. I do not claim to know whether whatever lies on this world we're hovering over will be a pleasant dream or an eldritch nightmare to us. I do not claim to know that we can stand resolute and victorious over the hostiles inhabiting this planet."

Slowly, he began walking towards his men.

"But I can tell you this much! We're going to show our enemy, whoever they may be, what we are capable of accomplishing as a single, solitary unit! We're going to show them what the Troopers of our caste, of the Tritoss, who have been training for combat since we were adorable little 30 year old munchkins can do with all those 120 years we spent training ourselves to the extreme. We are to do everything we can to honor the Academy of Prair, and with any luck, we just might be able to honor the Mercar as well!"

Abruptly, Ernor came to a halt, once again standing at the same spot he had been earlier to walking towards the other side of the platform.

"So when I say that you all better bring you're A-game, that you all better stop bickering with each other and perform your duties to the best of your abilities-" He said, that last part directed towards the Corporal if his face's position was any indication, "-do I mean it when I say you will be summarily and suitably reprimanded!"

"Yes you mean it, sir!"

The Sergeant nodded in approval.

"You are all correct! Now-"

Ernor moved back towards the platform's other side, once again looking downwards.

"-from the looks of things, we are over one of the planet's Continents. Since I cannot identify any other noticeable land-mass, that's our best bet of landing on solid-ground-and I don't know about you all, but I do not want to go for a swim"

Ernor swiveled his head around to his assembled team, a Psionic smile forming on his mind.

"So, who here feels like playing a nice game of "Tornado Diving" taken to an ever higher extreme?"

"We do sir!"

Ernor chuckled.

"Somehow I knew you'd say something like that."


	4. STATS Bit 2

Factions vs. Factions Standard Foot Soldier Deployment STATS 2:

1. Tritoss Troopers: 6

2. Ultramarines: 6

3. Covenant: 20,000

4. Locusts: Unknown. Projected to be in the millions

5. Chimera: Unknown. Projected to be in the hundreds of thousands.

6. Akrid: Unknown. Projected to be in the hundreds of thousands


End file.
